(Ahem. Chortle chortle, clearing throat noises.)
(Deep breath.)
(A very quiet thrum of woodwind and steel drums begins.)
Kill me now, kill me now, kill me now.
Why am I alive still? Let me out.
I want to die, I want to die, I want to die.
I didn't use to and no longer want to cry.
I did not want to live; I do not want to live.
Never have I ever had any less to give.
Doctors call me "young and healthy",
pressured to fit on their spreadsheet.
Never correct my records,
Focus solely on nethers,
Push and pry and test my will:
Wait, but could I please be still?
Stuff me full of pills and pastries.
(Have I seemed to gain weight lately?)
Body stone, beyond much meaning.
There it goes! Must be teeming
With that life I whine about.
(Clearly, joyfulness I tout.)
I've thought of many method plans.
Crisis Lines deserve more bans:
Make tea or go for a walk?
Pop pills; neck self on a jog.
Of course it's all not meant for me.
I'm only one of vast, silly.
I know, I feel beyond the pail:
Nauseous always, may yet wail.
Nothing else within my grasp
Can make me force out one more
IT GETS BETTER. Must be so.
Why else need we bask in -- lo!
What soon nears us? May it be?
Intangible asides, that I might think ..."clearly".
"Can you stay safe?" What, secret too?
My insides bake to share the gloom.
Not least the pain, known and felt,
sanctimonious help.
Platitudes a'plenty,
Deary me, I do feel splendid.
Yes of COURSE, how did I drift
Away from loving "this is it"?
Could we agree to never say
"[Evidenceless] you should stay"?
#OortArtCloud #lyrics #art #Spoonie #Depression
Mx Verda
